Boober Strikes Again
by Negaduck
Summary: Boober is fed up to HERE with the antics of his fellow Fraggles, and goes on strike. How much difference does his absence make? (This story is heavily influenced by the animated FR series and is not part of my regular continuity.)


**Boober Strikes Again  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was a typical afternoon in Fraggle Rock. There were no special events planned for that day, so the Fraggles were making their own entertainment. They were good at that. They had elevated messing around to an art form.

Red was combining work and play. Her job was swimming and splashing in the swimming hole to keep the water clean. Technically she was only required to do that for five minutes a week, but she was so dedicated that she put in at least that much time every day. Today, for example, she was practicing her cannonball dives. One day she'd beat even Large Marvin! Poncle, her young daughter, was cheering her on and measuring her splashes with more enthusiasm than accuracy.

Gobo and Wembley, who had been off exploring overnight, walked into the Great Hall just in time to get splattered from head to toe. Gobo stopped and blinked, startled. Wembley said, "Thanks, Red, that feels good! How'd you know we were all hot and dusty?"

"Lucky guess."

On the other side of the pool Mokey and her son, Janken, had linked tails. Mokey said, "Ready?"

Sage, her daughter, said, "Ready."

Mokey and Janken began swinging their tails in wide circles. Sage jumped between them and hopped when the tails swept toward her feet. She only made a few successful jumps before she tripped.

Mokey and Janken separated their tails, and Janken helped Sage up. He said, "Whoa, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she replied, wiping rock dust off her knees.

Mokey said, "That was just a warmup. Let's try again."

"No, thanks," Sage said. "I'm kinda tired. Maybe later."

"My turn!" Poncle exclaimed, and jumped between them.

* * *

While the Fraggles in the great hall swam and played and generally whooped it up, Boober was at home, quietly doing the laundry. It was more than a job for him. It was his career, his passion, one of the biggest joys in his life. He was perfectly happy right now as he unpinned crisp, clean clothes from the clothesline. He folded each item neatly as he took it down and put it in a basket. When he was done he had a load of fresh, clean clothes ready to be delivered to their owners. He had used a new mossie on them, so they were especially soft, and had just a hint of fresh, herbal scent. "Another perfect batch," he said with quiet pride.

Then he went to the kitchen, which was adjacent to his home. It was available for all to use, but it was rare that anyone but Boober—often assisted by Sage—cooked here. He touched the oven door with his fingertips. It was just the right temperature. He opened it and quickly slid in a pan of casserole that he had prepared earlier, then shut it again. Then he checked a pot on top of the stove. In it, a vegetable stew was simmering. He stirred it with a wooden ladle, then tasted it and paused thoughtfully. He opened a spice jar and threw in a few pinches of ground seeds. After another taste he added in one more pinch, then was satisfied. Both the stew and the casserole would be done as soon as he finished delivering the laundry.

Before he went back for the basket, however, he checked out his pharmacopeia. He had a large collection of herbal remedies for injuries and illnesses, plus things like clean dried moss for moss packs, sticks and twine for splints, and other items that he could reasonably expect to use. Periodically he checked things over to see if his supplies were getting low. He had enough for now, but it never hurt to freshen things up. A good doctor took care of his stock. He made a mental note to pick some antwort the next time he found a patch.

Satisfied, he went back to his cave and picked up the basket of clean laundry. It looked so pretty, the color all bright and pure, the fabric smooth. He did good work, he said to himself.

He was crossing the Great Hall with his basket. Red chose that moment to let out a ululating cry and toss herself down into the water, arms and legs spread. She hit the surface in a spectacular backflop, spraying water everywhere. She splattered Boober hard enough to knock his cap off. He yelped, startled, and dropped the laundry.

Poncle ran past him as he righted the basket. She pointed to a stalgmite that the water had splashed. "Look! You splashed to here, Mama!"

"That's a new record! Large Marvin doesn't stand a chance," Red crowed.

"A new record in laundry dirtying," Boober replied, scowling as he picked up the dropped clothes.

"Aw, it's just water. Hang it up to dry," Red scoffed.

"No! These fell on the ground. Which is wet. So now everything is muddy!" He held up a formerly-clean shirt so she could see the stains.

Mokey came into the Great Hall with a bundle in her arms. "Oh, Boober, I'm glad I caught you! Here's my painting smock."

She plopped the smock into his basket. He looked at the paint-smeared cloth in dismay, then lifted it. The paint had rubbed off on the clothes underneath. He could just have rinsed the light mud stains out, but now he'd have to wash everything all over again. He told Mokey, "These _were_ clean!"

Red said from the pool, "Even after being dropped in the mud?"

"No thanks to you!"

"Oh dear," Mokey said. "Well, look on the bright side. You like to do laundry so much, and now you'll get to do it again."

"Yeah," Wembley said, hoping to cheer Boober up.

Boober snarled, "What's the point if they don't stay clean long enough for anybody to use them?"

"Yeah," Wembley said to Mokey.

Gobo, the voice of reason, stepped in. "Red and Mokey didn't mean to mess up your laundry. It's not worth getting mad about. After all-" He swung his guitar around front. Boober stared, dumbfounded, as Gobo began to play a samba.

"When you think you've got problems,  
When you've gotten short shrift,  
When you got naught but troubles  
And you're feeling mighty miffed,  
Every Thomas, Dick, and hairy-faced baboon  
Thinks he knows which way to go.  
But I'm telling you the way you want to be,  
Listen up, because I know."

Wembley, Red, and Mokey joined in on the chorus. Wembley even had his bongos; heaven only knew where he had been hiding them.

"Let your mood start to clear up,  
Don't go feeling mad and sore.  
What you need now to cheer up-  
Do the stuff you've always done before!

Boober folded his arms and, glowering, endured the song.

"Everybody's got some aggro of their own,  
Everybody gets the blues.  
If you take the good advice I've got for you  
Then you won't feel confused.  
And let your mood start to clear up,  
Don't go feeling mad and sore.  
What you need now to cheer up-  
Do the stuff you've always done  
And do it, do it, do it, do it, do it like before!"

When the song ended Boober asked, "Are you _quite_ finished?"

"Yeah," Gobo answered.

"Good." Boober stalked away with his laundry basket, tail lashing.

Janken watched Boober go. He, Sage, and Poncle didn't worry when their parents fought. They squabbled on a regular basis, but after everyone blew off their steam they made up again and all was well with the world. Still, Sage wasn't happy with the way they had disrespected her Papa's laundry. It may not matter to them, but it was important to him.

* * *

Boober went back into his home and angrily tossed the clothes into the soapy water left over from the last batch. The paint-soiled clothing would have to be soaked, otherwise the paint would leave stains. But, he saw as he began scrubbing, only a little paint had rubbed off on the muddy clothes, and it hadn't had time to soak into the fabric. The paint and mud would come right out. He scrubbed those items, rinsed them, and then hung them on the clothesline to dry again. He'd get back to the smock…

…after lunch…

_Lunch!_ Oh, no! He had been so caught up in the laundry he'd forgotten everything else! He rushed over to the kitchen. The stew was boiling over, making a puddle of sludge on the oven top. Hastily he took that off the burner, then pulled on his mitts and yanked the oven door open. Smoke billowed out. He pulled the casserole out, and smelled as well as saw that it had been incinerated.

* * *

Outside, Wembley noticed a puff of smoke come from the kitchen, and heard Boober yell. More smoke belched out. Wembley did not hesitate for even a second. He had been training for this moment for years! He drew in a deep breath and let out a long, loud howl.

Fraggles everywhere jerked alert. Wembley was the volunteer fire brigade's siren. There must be a fire! Excited to finally see what one of those was like, all of the fire brigade rushed to their cave. They popped in through tunnels, climbed ladders, and slid down poles. Some slid down two or three times for good measure. They pulled on their uniforms, which consisted of red hats and suspenders. Then they gathered all the ladders, pumps, and hoses they could find and rushed toward the sound of the siren. Some of them made it through the tunnel before it was dammed by crosswise ladders.

Several Fraggles hooked the hose up to a pump, and put the pump's intake into the swimming hole. One Fraggle ran toward the source of the smoke, unreeling the hose as she went.

Boober heard Wembley shrieking his head off outside. Compared with the smoke and the smell of ruined food it was a mere distraction. But when it kept going on and on, and others joined in on the commotion, he pulled the door curtain open to look out. And was greeted by a faceful of water at high pressure.

All the Fraggles in Fraggle Rock were in the Great Hall, watching the excitement. An actual fire! They had had a fire department for years and years, and it was finally paying off! Of course they had Boober Fraggle to thank for that. After all, as the main cook, he was one of the very few who knew how to start a fire.

Sage saw that no more smoke was coming out. She pushed past the Fraggle with the hose. The kitchen was a flooded mess and Boober had been knocked back against the far wall. She screamed back, "Stop! The fire's out!"

Still spraying water, the Fraggle with the hose asked, "Are you sure?"

_"Yes!"_

Disappointed, she tried to shut the water off, but found that she couldn't. They had not planned that far ahead. She turned the hose back on the Great Hall. That brought the excitement level back up. It would be several minutes before someone realized that if they stopped pumping water, the hose would stop spraying.

Sage went over to Boober, who was stunned. She shook him by the shoulders and said, "Papa! Papa, are you okay?" She covered her mouth and coughed.

The rest of the Fraggle Five plus three piled into the kitchen. Sage was helping a waterlogged, dazed Boober to his feet. Wembley exclaimed, "Oh no! Boober, are you all right?"

"Just a little kitchen accident. Happens all the time," he mumbled.

Janken remarked sympathetically, "Wow, you just can't catch a break today."

Glancing around, red spotted the casserole pan, and the burnt remains of the casserole, which was now covered by an inch of water. She stabbed at it with a fork. The tines bent. "Looks like the rest of us did, though."

"There was stew, too," Boober said.

"Where?" Gobo asked.

Boober glanced around. The pot had been knocked across the room, and its contents had gone flying. "All over," he said peevishly.

"What a shame," Mokey said. "I was looking forward to that stew."

"What the heck happened?" Gobo asked.

"I was washing—again—the clothes that Red and Mokey dirtied, and by the time I-"

Red exclaimed, "You forgot lunch so you could do extra laundry? Boober, sometimes your _mind_ is really out to lunch!"

Boober exploded, "Everything would have been _fine_ if it wasn't for Red splashing and Mokey painting and Wembley screaming and Gobo singing!"

Gobo, miffed and trying not to show it, said, "Calm down, Boober, you should be more cool and collected, like my uncle Traveling Matt."

"Hey, you just got another postcard, didn't you?" Wembley asked.

"As it so happens, I did." He took it out of the pocket in the back of his vest. He read, "Dear Nephew Gobo, The weather is fine. Wish you were here." He put the card back. "Now there's a calm, rational Fraggle. Nothing fazes him."

Boober's blue face was shading toward purple, he was so angry. He shouted, "I am sick and tired of you making fun of me and blowing me off and acting like my cooking and my laundry don't matter! I do everything for you, and all I hear are jokes and complaining and songs and postcards! Well, I have had it up to-" he raised a hand threateningly.

"No, Boober!" Mokey exclaimed.

"No, no! Don't do it," Wembley begged.

_"Here!"_ Boober said, holding his hand above his head.

Red folded her arms and said sarcastically, "Oh great, so you're fed up to here." She held a hand over Boober's head. _"Again_. So is everyone gonna have to move out of Fraggle Rock because you're in another snit?"

"No! Just go away and _leave! Me! Alone!"_ Boober cried, and pointed out the door. "I don't want to see _anyone! Go __**away!**__"_

Mokey asked, "This is so drastic. Are you sure?"

_"__**Yes**__ I'm sure! Get __**out**__!"_

Shocked, everyone hustled out of the kitchen. Boober jerked the curtain closed. He wished he had a door so he could slam it.

The group was quiet for a second. Then Poncle said quietly, "Papa Boober's real mad."

Red picked her up. "Don't worry. He'll get over it."

"Yeah, he'll be fine," Wembley agreed.

Mokey said, "He's a free spirit. He marches to the beat of a different drummer."

Gobo said, "Come on, let's leave him alone like he wants."

"Yeah."

The group walked away. Sage coughed, and went to get some water for her dry throat.

* * *

COMMERCIAL BREAK

* * *

Word spread throughout Fraggle Rock that Boober wanted to be left alone. Of course, the only thing to do was to honor his wishes. They stayed away from his home in droves, and took care of their own needs.

Boober savored his newfound solitude. He began by cleaning the kitchen. The fire hose had turned it into a swampy mess. First he had to mop up all the water, and then he had to mop again because of the soup that had been splattered everywhere. He cleaned not only the floor, but the walls and what he could reach of the ceiling. When the oven cooled down he cleaned the inside of that and scooped out the ashes in the bottom. He cleaned the top of the stove where the soup had boiled over and then crusted. He chipped the remains of the casserole out of its pan and, after a long soak, cleaned the pan. This was not the kind of work he enjoyed—it certainly didn't compare to the pleasure of doing laundry—but when he stood in the doorway, looking in at a kitchen that was cleaner than he could ever remember, he put his fists on his hips, nodded to himself, and said, "That'll do," in a tone of smug satisfaction.

Then he went back to his home, where the laundry was waiting for him. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation, then started scrubbing Mokey's paint-stained smock against the washboard.

He took his time and got every colored stain out. Now that he had the time, he could really make things sparkle! He rinsed it out in lightly scented water, then wrung it out and hung it on the line to dry.

That wasn't all he had to do. No, he had plenty of laundry. A colony full of active Fraggles generated a lot of grime! He sorted through the laundry baskets, picked out a collection of the dirtiest items, the ones he needed to wash right away so they would not produce odors, and happily set to work.

* * *

He spent a pleasant afternoon this way. Soon the clotheslines were heavy with drying cloth, and Boober realized that he was hungry. But not too hungry to take his time and do some real cooking! Humming to himself, he went into the pantry for the ingredients he would need, then set them out on the kitchen counter.

Soon he was whisking the batter for a delicious radish soufflé. He so rarely made soufflés, because they took time and care, and he was always getting interrupted. A collapsed soufflé was heartbreaking. Well, this one would be perfect!

Carefully he poured the batter into a warm, buttered ceramic dish and slid it into the bottom of the oven. He knew how long it would take to cook; just long enough to wash and rinse three average shirts. Now to find three shirts!

* * *

The pantry was adjacent to the kitchen. Everyone had promised to leave Boober alone, but even in a foul temper Boober couldn't expect them to stay away from their food supply.

It was the size of a small room, and full of shelves. There were jars and baskets and who knew what all in there. Most of the stuff in here was only used by Boober, spices and ground seeds and dried things. But the front area held baskets of fresh fruits and vegetables gathered from the Gorgs' garden, plus bread for sandwiches.

Mokey sliced a radish into thin discs. Wembley put them on bread, added a little spread and some lettuce, and passed the resulting sandwiches around to Red, Gobo, Janken, Sage, and Poncle. They could all smell the soufflé Boober was cooking. It smelled wonderful…but they had promised to leave Boober alone, and that's what they would do.

"Mm-mm, radish sandwiches are my favorite," Red said loudly.

Gobo gave her a look. Since when? Since she wanted Boober to overhear. He didn't reply. No need to encourage her.

Wembley said, "Yeah, as long as we have bread for 'em."

They all glanced up at the shelf. They had used up most of a loaf for their dinner, and there were only a few more. And there were lots of other Fraggles in the colony. By the time everyone got their dinners, that bread would be a memory. And how likely was it that Boober would make more now?

Janken said to Sage, "You know how to bake bread. Do you think you could…?"

She shook her head. "No," she said in a small voice. "If Papa doesn't want to cook, then I don't either."

Mokey patted her back. "We understand," she said.

Red, thought, Boober didn't feel like cooking? The heck he didn't. She could smell the soufflé in the kitchen. Technically the kitchen wasn't out of bounds; anyone could go in there and cook. But cooking wasn't Red's thing, and she knew that if she went in there she and Boober would get into another argument. Just for once she decided to leave well enough alone.

They finished their meal and, thus fueled, went back out to play. Except for Sage; she felt tired and upset. She went to her bed in Red and Mokey's room to take a nap.

* * *

Three more shirts were hanging on the clothesline, and Boober opened the oven door just a crack and peeked in. The soufflé had puffed up into a beautiful golden brown dome. Boober put on his oven mitts and carefully slid the soufflé out, then set it on top of the stove. He poured himself a cup of tea and served himself a slice of hot soufflé.

It was delicious! Light and fluffy, flavored with mellow cheese and tangy radish. This was a culinary triumph, the soufflé he always wanted to make! But his always collapsed, or didn't rise all the way, or developed crusts from overbaking, or any of a hundred other problems caused by distraction. This was truly a meal to be savored.

He ate slowly, enjoying every bite, thinking that most Fraggles didn't appreciate good food anyway, they just wolfed it down. When he finished he took the dishes to the sink and washed them. The problem was, he could not wash the soufflé dish because it was still occupied by most of the soufflé. He was no longer hungry, and it was silly to eat when you weren't hungry, but what could he do with it now?

Oh well, never mind. He had more important things to deal with now. Like dirty socks.

* * *

By the next day Boober's absence was making itself felt. Mokey and others kept the pantry supplied with fresh fruits and vegetables from the Gorgs' garden, but the bread was gone. Although raw produce was a healthy diet for Fraggles, it paled in comparison to Boober's cooking. Some others could cook simple soups over campfires, and they did so, but it wasn't the same.

They coped with laundry the same way. Washing clothes was just a matter of putting them in soapy water, scrubbing them, and then hanging them up to dry, wasn't it? Those who had taken Boober's laundry classes knew otherwise. Rock soap came from the Squeaky Cavern. Bleach nuts took out stains, but they could also damage colors. And then there was salt and lemon juice and borax, and hot water versus cold water, and other little secrets that nobody had bothered to learn. Nobody except Sage, and she adamantly supported her father and did no laundry. So, people did the best they could, wetting their clothes in running water and rubbing them with whatever soap they had on hand. The results varied. Some clothes did get clean, but most only got less dirty, or worse, were damaged by overenthusiastic, inexpert scrubbing. Some were not rinsed out well before being hung up. All were wrinkled because they had not been hung up properly to dry.

* * *

Boober had completed his laundry backlog. He had washed and folded those clothes to within an inch of their lives. He had even, using a hot, flat rock on a handle, ironed them, and pressed pleats for really neat, sharp creases. He rarely had the time for such careful treatment.

All done. The folded laundry was in neat stacks in baskets, ready to go back to its owners. Well, that would have to wait, he said to himself with a sniff.

He went into the kitchen. There was leftover soufflé, and stir-fry, and roasted vegetables, and other foods. He had hoped that some Fraggles would come in to use the kitchen and take advantage of his surplus, but that wasn't happening. Wasting good food was, in his opinion, a terrible sin, especially when the food was as good as his.

Still! He had his privacy, and that was a welcome change! He could do everything he wanted to do at his own pace, he told himself as he set about making a vegetable gumbo.

* * *

Sage was unhappy. She had been feeling bad since yesterday's fight. Food didn't taste good, and she didn't have much energy, and now she felt cold. She was crossing the Great Hall when her older brother Janken said, "Hey, Sage?"

"What?"

"Um, I wanted to wash my jacket. I got a big grass stain when I went into the garden this morning, and I don't want it to set. Could you give me a hint how to get it out?"

She shook her head and said firmly, "If Papa's not doing laundry, neither am I." Her resolute image was spoiled by a sniffle.

Janken hugged her and said, "Aw, it's only a jacket. It'll wait. It's okay, Sage, don't cry."

"I'm not going to cry," she said, and sniffled again. She hugged back for a moment, then pulled away and ran to the kitchen door. The curtain was still drawn. She listened, and heard Boober working inside. He'd be busy there for a little while. She went around to the entrance to Boober's room and snuck in.

Boober turned when he heard a sound like a cough coming from his room. He went there and saw Sage holding something in her arms and looking guilty. She said, "Sorry, Papa! I just came to get this."

She looked so distressed that he had caught her! He told her, "It's all right, Sage. I don't mind. I'm making dinner. Would you like some?"

She shook her head. "Thanks, Papa, but I'm not hungry."

Taken aback, he said, "Are you sure? I have all sorts of things, including roast parsnips and radishes in tomato sauce. Your favorite."

She smiled tiredly. "It sounds yummy, but I'm not hungry. I'm going to go home and take a nap."

"Well…okay," he said, disappointed. "What did you come to get?"

She unfolded it to show him. "Just my sweater. I'm a little cold."

"You're cold? But it's warm now."

She said, "I can't help it. I feel cold."

He touched her cheek with his fingertips. It was hot. He said, "You have a fever, Sage. That's why you feel cold and tired and don't want to eat."

"I know," she said softly. "My throat and nose are tickly and my hair and baloobius itch too. But it's not a high fever. I'm going to go to bed."

"But why didn't you come to me?"

"Well—people were being mean to you, expecting you to do everything, and they don't even say thank you, and I don't want to be like them, Papa! You're right, they should be nicer to you!"

She said it all in a rush, and now she looked like she was ready to cry. He knelt and hugged her. "Sage, what's important is that you get well. Get into my bed and rest. I'll make you some tea with moonrose and jumble grass."

She gave a small smile. "Moonrose for fever and jumble grass for the sickness."

"That's right. Now, to bed. Doctor Boober's orders."

"Yes, Papa Doctor Boober."

He went into the kitchen, and she put on her sweater and got into Boober's bed. She pulled all the blankets over herself, then curled up, feeling cold all the way to her bones.

A few minutes later Boober came to the bed with a cup of tea in his hands. It was pleasantly warm, not hot. She accepted it—the heat of the cup felt good in her cold hands—and drank. When she finished the cup he took it back and, his hand gently stroking her hair, said, "Now get some sleep, and I'll make up some nice radish noodle soup. How does that sound?"

It was the soup he always made when someone was sick and not hungry, but needed to keep hydrated. It tasted good and was easy on the stomach. "That sounds good." He started toward the kitchen, and she said, "Papa."

He turned back. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

He came back and kissed her on the forehead. "You're welcome," he whispered.

* * *

The day progressed, and afternoon turned into evening. In Gobo and Wembley's room Mokey and Gobo were making dinner—Mokey cooking rutabaga and parsnip soup, and Gobo cutting up vegetables for a salad—and the rest of the family was helping out, or getting in the way. The two were interchangeable. By the time the soup was ready Wembley, Red, Janken, and Poncle had drifted in. Mokey said, "Where's Sage?"

Red said, "Wasn't she feeling crummy before? She's probably in bed."

"I'll go check," Janken said.

He left. They ladled the soup out, and served the 'salad' – cut-up raw vegetables with a light dressing—while they waited for him. By the time he returned they had finished eating. A bowl each of soup and salad had been set aside for Janken and Sage. Janken said, "She wasn't there. I asked around, and nobody knows where she went."

Wembley, Mokey, Gobo, and red glanced at each other worriedly. Mokey said, "She didn't say anything about where she was going?"

"If she had, would we be wondering where she is?" Red answered impatiently.

"There's several places she might have gone," Gobo said. "The Gorgs' garden. The Squeaky Cavern."

"Sweetwater Grotto," Mokey said.

Gobo said, "Let's go and and look for her. Just in case."

"Yeah," Wembley said.

They stood. Janken did too. Gobo told him, "Jan, you and Poncle stay here in case she comes back."

In other words, babysit Poncle so she wouldn't get in the way during their search. "Gotcha."

* * *

Gobo and Red went down to the Squeaky Cavern. It was a long trek, and they didn't think Sage would go this far…but she had a strong stubborn streak, just like her father, and Red could imagine her coming down here to get laundry soap rather than disturb Boober while he was sulking.

They reached the cavern. It could be slippery and treacherous when it was wet, but thankfully the ground was dry. Gobo called, "Sage, are you here?"

His voice echoed around. Red, looking in every direction but down, yelped when her feet went out from under her. She landed hard on her back. Gobo said, "What was that?"

"Found a puddle," she informed him.

* * *

Mokey went down to Sweetwater Grotto. It was a nice, peaceful underwater river. They often paddled a boat around in it not to go anywhere, just to relax and bob around on the water. Both Boober and Sage liked to come here just to be quiet.

The boat was on the ground. Its sides and bottom weren't wet.

* * *

Wembley hurried up to the Gorgs' garden, hoping he would meet her coming in the opposite direction. But he got to the surface without seeing her. He went out and called "Sage? Are you out here?"

Junior, working in the garden, looked over and said "Who's that?" He saw the small yellow-and-white shape and said, "Wembley?"

"Yeah. Have you seen Sage?"

"Sure. We have a few of them gwowing wight over there." Junior pointed.

"No, no! I mean, our Sage. She's missing."

"She got lost? Oh, no! I'll look for her too!"

Wembley pictured Junior's big, booted feet trampling around in the garden and cried, "No! Junior, just look around yourself. Can you see her?"

Junior did. He searched the ground for any hint of a Fraggle shape, but saw none. "Nope."

"Let me take a look. Just stay where you are, okay?"

"Okay."

Wembley looked around in the garden, afraid that he might find her in the middle of one of Junior's footprints. Junior would never harm a Fraggle on purpose, but he could accidentally step on a someone he didn't know was there. The Fraggles who came into the garden usually said hello to alert him to their presence.

He didn't find her. Thank goodness; he hadn't thought she'd be so foolish. He said, "It's all right, Junior. She isn't here."

"Okay. If I see her, I'll yell down the well, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks!"

Red and Gobo were the last to return. Red looked as if she had tried to wash her sweater while she was still in it. When Poncle saw them she exclaimed, "Did you find her?"

"No," Red said. Poncle looked distressed, and Red picked her up and cuddled her.

Wembley said, "I'm getting really worried. What if something happened to her?"

"She can't have left Fraggle Rock without _somebody_ seeing her. We've got to ask everyone," Gobo said.

* * *

Sage woke up when Boober patted her. She opened her eyes and smelled something nice. Radish noodle soup, the perfect comfort food for a sick Fraggle. She sat up in bed. He set a bowl in her lap. It was half full so it would be less likely to slosh. He said, "There's more if you're hungry after that."

"Thanks, Papa." She scooped out some broth and noodles with her spoon. The noodles were odd-shaped, bent lines...ah! She smiled. They were shaped like socks! She giggled and looked up at him, and he grinned back at her.

* * *

Sage was nowhere to be found. The last Fraggles to see her had seen her right here, in the Great Hall, hours ago.

The Fraggle Five, minus one, plus two, looked at each other. Gobo said, "We have to tell Boober."

Red said, "What can _he_ do? But, yeah. He ought to know."

"Who should tell him?" Janken asked.

Poncle, who had been getting more and more distressed at the loss of her big sister and frustrated at being held back from the search parties, exclaimed, "Me! I'll tell him!" She broke away from the group and ran for Boober's room.

"No, wait!" Red shouted, but Poncle didn't stop. Red was fast, but Poncle had a head start. She ran right into the curtain at the entrance of Boober's cave. The rod popped off the wall, and the curtain fell onto Poncle. Muffled by the fabric, she shouted, "Papa Boober, Sage's gone!"

"What?" Boober lifted the curtain, revealing a small, tearful Fraggle.

The rest of the family were in the doorway. Red said, "Um, we can't find Sage. Nobody knows where she is."

"What? She's right here." Boober beckoned them in. He gestured toward the bed, where a surprised-looking Sage was eating some soup. "She has a fever, so I put her to bed."

Sage said, "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd get worried."

"It's all right, Sage. We should have checked here first," Mokey said.

Poncle wanted to jump up on the bed with Sage, but Boober intercepted her. He said, "She's sick and feels icky. You need to stay away from her until she's better or you'll get sick and icky too."

Sage promised her little sister, "I'll play with you when I get well, okay?"

Poncle thought this over, then said, "Okay."

Boober said to the others, "I may have been mad, but, well, I'll _never_ be too mad for someone who's sick."

The others glanced uncomfortably among themselves. There was a shuffling of feet. Then Wembley spoke up. "It's hard to admit you're wrong. Well, for most people it is. I'm used to it. I'm sorry we treated you kinda bad back there. We miss your laundry and your food, but most of all we miss _you."_

"Yes," Mokey said.

"What he said," Red added.

Poncle said, "Sorry we hurt your feelings, Papa Boober."

Boober drew in a deep breath, held it a moment, then let it out again. He said, "I've been bored. Not the good kind of bored, either. I did all the laundry, and it's not much fun cooking for one."

"So, can we make up?" Gobo asked.

Yes. But on one condition," Boober said firmly.

"What?"

"Those messy clothes are a disgrace. Take them off right now so I can wash them. Your clean clothes are in those baskets. Good grief, Red, did you wash this sweater and forget to _rinse_ it?"

"That's our Boober," Gobo laughed as he took off his vest and emptied its pockets before putting it in the basket.

Boober stared at Janken's jacket. "I don't want to know how you got these grass stains. I'm going to start on these right now. And while I'm washing, maybe you can all help me in the kitchen."

"Sure," Wembley said as he buttoned a clean banana tree shirt. "What do you want us to do?"

Boober was already separating the clothes. He said, "I'm kind of out of practice cooking for one. So I ended up with some leftovers. You can have them. If you want."

They looked into the kitchen. There, on the counter, was most of a soufflé, and a dish of roast vegetables, and other delicacies. They had already had their dinner, but the frantic hunt immediately afterward had worked up another appetite. They quickly served themselves and dug in. After eating their own cooking, Boober's was doubly welcome.

Boober said, "Sorry it's not hot, but, well…"

Red put down her plate and went back into Boober's room. He was scrubbing Gobo's shirt on a washboard. She crouched on the opposite side of the washtub. "Boober." He looked up. She said, "We _like_ your leftovers," and bumped her nose against his.

Wembley said, "Yeah! Nobody cooks leftovers like you!"

Gobo gave his roommate an odd look, then said, "We don't say it a lot, but your laundry and cooking are two of the best things about the Rock. Sorry if we've been taking you for granted. I guess I don't blame you for getting miffed."

"Yeah…well…pfft..." Boober said. Sometimes the simplest things are the hardest to say. "'Kay."

Mokey said, "And we can help you out, if you want."

"Yeah!" Poncle cried.

The little Fraggle saw an opportunity, and took it. She jumped into the tub of washwater, splattering sudsy water on Boober, who sputtered and wiped it away from his face. She grinned up at him. Looking as cute as she possibly could, she declared, "I'll help!"

"All right!" he grabbed her by the shoulders and started scrubbing her on the washboard. She squealed and giggled, kicking sudsy water around. As Boober played with her he sang,  
"I'm a little Fraggle, Boober is my name.  
Cooking is my job here, laundry is my game.  
When I see a stewpot something whispers 'Wow!'  
I prepare a new pot, I remember now.  
I love to wash socks, that's what I adore.  
Killing germs and cooking, that's what life is for.  
And when I think back, everything is clear:  
I am Boober Fraggle and I live right here."

* * *

All characters except Janken, Sage, and Poncle are copyright © The Jim Henson Company, as are the original versions of the songs _Stuff Samba_ and _I'm a Little Stewpot_. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Sage, Poncle, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


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